


something more than momentary

by ProbablyVoldemort



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Princess Protection Program - Freeform, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23270026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProbablyVoldemort/pseuds/ProbablyVoldemort
Summary: The first rule of working for the Princess Protection Program was, well, keep your princess safe no matter the cost.The second rule was don't get attached.  Agent Murphy had followed that rule to the letter for years and never had an issue.But now he's stuck in a car for the foreseeable future with a princess and a gunshot wound, and everything he's ever believed in just might be changing.
Relationships: Harper McIntyre/John Murphy
Comments: 11
Kudos: 12
Collections: Chopped Madness





	something more than momentary

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello hello! We are BACK with some more CHOPPED!
> 
> No comment on whether I also wrote the Disney Channel Original Movie fic last round, but I can confirm that you are, in fact, about to read an angsty Princess Protection Program Road Trip...Murper? Harphy? McMurphy? Murphintyre? Do they even have a ship name????
> 
> Title is from One and the Same by Selena Gomez and Demi Lovato, which, for any of you uncultured enough to not already know, is the song from the instant classic 2009 film Princess Protection Program, on which this fic is (very loosely) based.
> 
> Murphy is a mix of Selena Gomez and her dad and Harper is Demi Lovato, in case that's not obvious from the fic itself.
> 
> Please enjoy!

BANG!

The shot rang out and Murphy was running before he could gage who had fired.

Someone was screaming, but he tuned it out. His only focus was on the princess he was duty-bound to protect, a beacon in her baby blue gown.

BANG!

The second shot came as he pushed in front of her, shielding her with his body, pain ripping through his shoulder.

“Move,” he ordered, shoving the princess down from the stage and pulling his own gun from its holster.

She didn’t argue, let him shield her as he led her towards the closest exit.

Murphy was still tuning out the screaming, scanning for the assailant, and didn’t even realize anyone had been hit until Harper froze.

He followed her gaze to the lifeless form of her mother, collapsed on the stone floor in a puddle of blood.

“We need to move,” he hissed, tugging at her arm. She didn’t until the next shot came, one he barely managed to push them both out of the way of, and then they were fleeing the throne room.

Murphy worked extraction, and he was good at it. He was one of the best at inserting himself in the surroundings undetected and devising an exit strategy for every possible thing that could go wrong. And he was phenomenal at getting his marks out, safe and alive.

He was the best of the best, which was why he was on the McIntyre case.

It was also why Collins was currently pissed at him, because he’d only gotten assigned Charlotte while Murphy was on Harper.

The McIntyre case itself was straightforward. The king was dead, and his eldest daughter was taking over as queen. They were here to ensure the transition of rulers went smoothly, and to protect the princesses and their mother if it didn’t.

The former of which they’d apparently failed at.

Everything seemed to catch up to the princess as they ran through the palace, pushing him back against a wall with a surprising amount of force.

“What is going on?” she demanded, eyes narrowed and tiara askew.

Murphy sighed, glancing back down the hall from where they came, tensed and ready for the next assault. Extractions were always harder when they had questions.

“I’m assigned to your safety, your Highness,” he told her. “I’m getting you out, so move.”

He didn’t wait for her to answer, just pushed her away and grabbed her arm, tugging her along. They had to move.

He lifted his other wrist to his mouth, ignoring the pain that shot through his arm.

“The palace is under siege,” he told the mic hidden there. “I have my mark. Have extraction ready at the southeast exit.”

Harper was still asking questions, but Murphy ignored her, rushing faster as he got the affirmative in his earpiece. There would be time for answers later.

The copter had already landed when they emerged, and Collins was outside the door, waiting.

That should have tipped him off. They weren’t supposed to wait. They were supposed to get their mark out and disappear. Anyone else and their mark had to catch a different ride. You didn’t wait.

But, like an idiot, he walked towards the copter, towards Collins.

He should’ve seen the gun coming.

“What the fuck, Collins?” he yelled over the wind from the blades as he shoved Harper behind him, his other hand adjusting his grip on his own gun.

“Get out of the way,” Collins called back, eyes trained on the princess. “Pike doesn’t need you dead. I don’t have to kill you. Just get out of the way.”

“Like fucking hell,” Murphy muttered, and then raised his gun and fired.

They were running again before Collins’ body hit the ground.

The copter was out of the question, so he pulled the princess down towards the treeline. Where they went immediately after didn’t matter. All that mattered was keeping her alive.

Which didn’t seem to be Harper’s top priority, as she stopped without warning before they even reached the trees.

“What are you doing?” Murphy asked, frowning at her. “We can’t stop.”

Harper shook her head, panic in her eyes and all over her face. “I can’t leave my sister!”

Murphy sighed, thinking of Collins and the fact that he clearly had other plans than protecting Charlotte.

Murphy contemplated it. She was just a kid. Twelve and an orphan, just like he’d been. He couldn’t just leave her, could he?

He focused back on Harper, on her pleading eyes and crooked tiara.

Yes. He had to leave Charlotte.

“Your sister is not my mission,” he told Harper, not caring that he sounded harsh. “ _You_ are my mission, your Highness. Charlotte is someone else’s mission, and they will get her out.” A bold-faced lie, but one that was needed, for Harper’s sake. There were other agents in there. One of them would worry about Charlotte. He adjusted his grip on Harper’s arm, narrowing his eyes. “My duty is to keep _you_ alive. Going back in there will get both you _and_ your sister killed.” He tugged on her arm. “Now, move.”

Harper stood her ground, wrenching her arm from his grip.

“I have known you for five days,” she told him. “I don’t even know your name. Why should I trust you?”

Murphy swore under her breath as he unbuttoned his coat. Sometimes it was easier to just answer the questions.

“Agent Johnathan Murphy of the Princess Protection Program,” he told her, tugging out his badge and presenting it to her. She took it from him, studying it closely. “Arkadia has been under threat from Charles Pike, so your mother hired our services to protect you and your sister. Keeping you safe and alive is my mission, and I can’t do that if we keep standing here out in the open.”

Harper glanced back up at him and nodded, handing him back his badge.

Which he threw on the ground, followed by his jacket and the comms unit from his ear.

“What are you doing?”

“Trackers,” he told her. “I need you to remove all your jewellery as we go. It’s all tracked.”

Harper’s eyes widened, and Murphy reached up and pulled off her tiara, tossing it aside.

“Let’s move.”

Harper, for her part, had stopped arguing and managed to remove all her jewellery relatively quickly. There was another tracker sewn into her dress, but there wasn’t anything they could do about that quite yet, so they would just have to hope that whoever Collins had been working with was less than competent.

He couldn’t afford to imagine he was the only rogue agent from the PPP, though, which was why he’d thrown away anything they could use to track him.

He was on his own for now, until he could safely contact the Director.

It didn’t take them too long to reach a town, and then he had a decision to make.

He could sneak in easily. Without the jacket, he could blend in as just a fancily dressed civilian.

The princess, though, was still in a ballgown. It was a ripped and muddy ballgown, but it was a ballgown all the same.

He couldn’t bring her into town. Not if he wanted to keep a low profile.

Which meant he had to leave her in the woods.

He didn’t like leaving his marks.

“You need to stay here,” he told her, leading her behind a particularly large stump.

She shook her head. “I am not staying here.”

“You have to,” he told her, and pushed down on her arms until she was forced to sit. “I need to get something to make you look less like a princess, and I can’t do that with you looking like a princess.”

Harper huffed but agreed, and Murphy hesitated again before pushing his gun into her hands.

“Do you know how to use this?” he asked, and Harper nodded. “Good. If anyone else comes here besides me, use it.”

Satisfied he was leaving her as safe as she could be, he hurried into the town, untucking his shirt and ruffling up his hair as he went.

Harper trained the gun on him when he returned, and he raised his hands, impressed with her form.

“Change into this,” he told her after she lowered the gun, tossing her a bag. “I’ll be changing on the other side. Tell me when you’re done.”

He rounded the stump and quickly changed out of his uniform pants and into a pair of jeans. The hoodie, however, had to wait until he bandaged up his bullet wound.

He’d have to see a doctor, once he contacted the Director. He could wait to get his arm fixed until Harper was safe. The bandages he’d bought would be enough for now.

He must have made some noise of pain, because Harper was rounding the stump, eyes wide and gun in hand as she scanned the trees.

“Sorry,” he grunted, and then her eyes were on him.

“You got shot?” she hissed, dropping the gun to the dirt and coming closer.

He waved her off. “It’s fine.”

“It is _not_ fine,” she snapped. “You got shot.”

“I got shot,” he agreed, smirking like it wasn’t a big deal, like he got shot every day. “But you didn’t, so that means I’m doing my job.”

A hundred things flashed across Harper’s face, but she finally settled on determination as she stepped even closer.

“Let me wrap it,” she said, and he let her have her way.

Once he was dressed, he took her in. With the purple sweater and dark leggings, she looked like anyone else. The sunglasses she slipped off her head and over her eyes would hopefully mask her identity enough for now.

“Take out your hair,” he told her, and Harper complied, pulling down the intricate braids of her updo. He nodded when she was done, tucking his gun into his waistband and tugging his hoodie down over it. “Good. I know you have questions, but we need to keep moving first. I’ll answer anything you need to ask as soon as it’s safe to, okay?”

“Okay,” Harper agreed, and followed Murphy into the town.

There were four things Murphy had to do before they left.

The first was booking a flight to Polis using his PPP registered account. That would throw anyone off their trail for long enough to get away.

The second was to take out all the money he could from the account, stuffing it into his wallet and back into his pocket.

The third was getting a car.

He played it up as an anniversary trip, feeding the man as much information about their fake relationship as he could think of. People tended to move you through a process faster if they wanted to make you shut up.

It worked, and they were in a car before they knew it, driving away from Arkadia’s capital.

“What do you want to know?” he asked Harper, sighing as he turned onto the highway.

She had been quiet so far in the passenger seat. Too quiet for his liking, but understandable given the circumstances.

“What happened?” was her first question, which fair enough.

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging his uninjured shoulder. “Collins said he was reporting to Pike, so it seems Terra has finally decided to invade Arkadia. I’ll have more details once I can contact my superiors.”

Harper picked at a string on her sweater, not looking at him. “Who’s Collins?”

Murphy sighed. Of course that was her next question.

“The guy from the helicopter,” he told her. “He was with the PPP. Must’ve been recruited by Pike at some point, I don’t know. I just know we’re on our own until we know who is compromised.”

Harper was quiet for a while. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, and it was bothering him. He could always tell what people were thinking. It was his job.

“You got shot,” she eventually said, and he turned to look at her. “You got shot by a bullet meant for me.”

He nodded, turning back to the road. “Just doing my job.”

Murphy still couldn’t read the look on her face, so he turned on the radio, flipping through stations until he found the news. Word of the attack had spread, but no one knew any specifics.

Harper silenced the radio once it started repeating the same information. “Where are we going?”

Murphy looked over at the princess. Her arms were wrapped around herself and she was staring out her window instead of looking at him, looking more distressed than he’d seen her yet.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Somewhere you’ll be safe.”

Murphy didn’t stop driving until they’d passed through the Arkadia-Trigona border, and then his grip loosened on the wheel just a little.

It was getting dark. As much as he would prefer to keep driving, they’d been on the road for hours. His entire body was cramping, he had to pee, and he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He could only imagine how uncomfortable the princess was.

He pulled into a mall and Harper stirred from against the door, blinking at him.

“Shades,” he directed, and she pulled them down over her eyes. “I’m just gonna run in and grab some things. You’re staying here. How do you like your burger?”

“What’s a burger?” she asked, voice rough, and Murphy wondered whether she’d been sleeping.

The fact that she didn’t know what a burger was wasn’t the most surprising part of today.

“Stay here,” he instructed. “Don’t unlock the doors for anyone else and don’t talk to anyone.” He paused, halfway out the door. “What’s your favourite colour?”

Harper frowned at him. “Pink,” she said, and he nodded and left.

His trip through the mall took less time than he was expecting and more time than he wanted. He couldn’t stop thinking that leaving Harper alone was a bad idea, even if she was still too recognizable to bring her with him. At least he’d left her the gun.

He knocked on the window when he returned, making her jump.

The motel was cheap. It wasn’t anything the PPP would’ve put them up in, but he didn’t know how long they were going to have to save his cash. It definitely wasn’t anything the princess was used to.

Check-in went smoothly. The receptionist didn’t seem to give two shits about them, which was as good as he could hope for.

The door closed behind him and he flipped the deadbolt, finally breathing properly since before everything went to shit.

There was only one bed, but they were keeping a low profile. A room with one bed raised less suspicion than one with two. He dropped the bags at the end of it, shaking the paper one at Harper.

“Ready to try a burger?”

There wasn’t a table, so they sat on the bed, pulling their meals into their laps. Harper frowned at her burger, side eyeing him as he watched her raise it to her mouth.

The groan she made as she took her first bite shot through him.

He laughed instead, pretending he wasn’t affected. “Good?” She nodded and then set about scarfing down her meal, and he focused on doing the same and ignoring the sounds she was making.

“What did you buy?” she asked, when they were finished, and he dumped out the bags.

There were more clothes. Toiletries. Hair dye for Harper. A backpack to store their things. And bandages and a sewing kit.

“Sit down,” Harper directed when she saw those, motioning at the end of the bed, and Murphy complied.

Pulling off his hoodie was a bitch, and he had to grit his teeth and let Harper help.

He’d been ignoring the burn all day, too focused on getting her somewhere safe, but it was nearly bringing him to tears now. He accepted the new pair of socks that Harper handed him and bit down on it as she stitched the wound shut. The bullet had gone through, thank fuck, but it still hurt.

Her hands were soft against his skin and gentle as she wrapped the wound, and he needed a distraction. He wasn’t supposed to be getting attached. That was against the rules.

“You trust me,” he said, the pain clouding his better judgement. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, just stared down at his hands. “Why?You don’t even know me.”

Harper was quiet for a minute. “You took a bullet for me,” she said, like that was all there was to it.

Murphy didn’t know what to say to that. It wasn’t the first time he’d taken a bullet for a princess. Far from it.

But he’d never stuck around before. Never had to.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with her gratitude, so he did nothing, just shrugged on a fresh shirt and left to brush his teeth.

Not long after, they were laying in bed, facing away from each other. He listened as she cried herself to sleep, muffling her sobs against her pillow, and didn’t know how to help.

He didn’t like feeling useless.

He turned on the news the next morning while Harper showered. They’d dyed her hair pink, and she was washing out the excess dye. It wasn’t a perfect disguise and far from what she’d get from the transformation department, but it would work for now.

The news didn’t have anything specific, didn’t have any word on Charlotte or Harper’s disappearance, so he turned it off when he heard the shower end.

“We’re leaving in ten,” he called into the bathroom.

Harper found a pop station that didn’t play news an hour or so into their drive, and was humming along to the songs under her breath.

Murphy couldn’t keep his eyes on the road, couldn’t stop glancing across the car at her.

The pink hair looked good on her. He liked her hair better blonde, but he liked it pink, too.

Which was bad.

Getting attached wasn’t allowed, and neither was being into a princess.

“Can I ask a question?” he asked, turning to face her like he hadn’t been watching her from the corner of his eye for hours.

The princess adjusted her sunglasses on her nose. “Sure.”

“How are you so calm?”

She was quiet for a moment, her mouth drawing into a frown.

“I am Harper Anastasia Victoria McIntyre, Princess of Arkadia and heir to the throne,” she said. Murphy wondered briefly whether she thought he’d forgotten, but there was ice in her tone he hadn’t heard before. “I have spent my life preparing to lead a country. It teaches you to prioritize.” She shrugged, turning her gaze out the window. “Making the decision and surviving come first. You can have emotions later.”

He thought back to her hushed sobs the night before, the quiet expression of how everything in her life had gone to shit, and wondered if maybe they weren’t that different.

Being a princess didn’t sound all that different from protecting one.

The next three days of their trip fell into a routine.

They drove until they had to eat. Then they drove until they had to sleep. And then they slept until they had to drive.

The nights were full of sharing a bed but facing away, of Murphy listening to her tears and wishing he could do something more, of Harper’s soft hands against his skin as she changed his bandages. The days were filled with talking, asking each other questions.

Murphy found himself opening up more than he normally would, more than he had in years. He told her about his parents’ deaths, about how his friend had brought him home after school and insisted her parents take him in, about how her mom had gotten them both into the PPP.

Harper told him about growing up a princess, about the stresses of knowing there was a whole country that would one day be her responsibility. She told him about the games she’d play with her sister, about how much she loved and missed her family.

Maybe it was the almost isolation he’d forced himself into since he’d become an active agent. The Griffins were the only people he spoke with regularly. Maybe it was because he was running high on adrenaline and emotions.

Whatever the reason, he could feel himself falling for the princess, his feelings for her growing with every moment they spent in the car.

He wasn’t supposed to get attached.

It was their fourth night on the run when the news brought the announcement he’d been dreading.

The Queen was dead, which they’d already known.

But so was Charlotte.

“You left her!” Harper whisper-screamed, tears streaming down her face. He could tell she wanted to yell, but they were in another cheap motel. The walls were thin. “You made me leave her! She’s dead because of _you_!”

He wanted to tell her he hadn’t wanted to, that he never wanted to leave anyone, that if they’d gone back for her sister, they’d all be dead.

But that wouldn’t help anything, so he let her yell, and then he held her when she broke.

They slept entwined that night, her tears soaking through his shirt, and they left early the next morning.

Harper was all Arkadia had left. There was no time to grieve. They had to run. 

He had to keep her safe.

He bought the burner phone on day seven. Harper didn’t ask about it until they were back in the car.

“What will happen to me, after you contact them?”

“Usually, you get extracted,” Murphy said, staring out at the endless traffic. “Then I’d take you to HQ, where you’d be given a makeover and prepped for whatever life you’d get until you could safely return home. You’re practically queen, so you’d be kept in the loop on what we’re doing to get your kingdom back.”

She nodded. “But this isn’t usual.”

“It’s not,” Murphy agreed, sighing. “I’m guessing they’ll send you home with me. I’m too deep in this to be put on another mission and not risk that princess’ safety, so they’ll probably keep us together.” He shook his head. “But we won’t know anything until I get in contact with the Director.”

Harper pushed her sunglasses on top of her head, watching him closely.

“How do you know you can trust the Director?”

Finally, an easy question.

“She’s been the closest thing I have to a mother for a decade,” he said, and Harper nodded, satisfied.

“Do I get a say in any of this?” she asked, and Murphy shrugged.

“I can put in a word with her,” he offered. “What do want?”

She reached over, squeezing his hand where it rested on the gear shift. “To stay with you,” she whispered, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t look away from her eyes that were staring into his soul. “I don’t trust anyone but you.”

Her touch lingered long after she’d pulled back, and Murphy knew he was well and truly fucked.

He called the Director that night, while Harper showered in their dingy bathroom.

_“Where the fuck have you been?”_ Abby snapped once he’d identified himself.

“On the run with a princess,” he told her, scrubbing at his nose with his hand. “Collins was with Pike, and I didn’t know who to trust.”

Abby sighed. _“Harper’s alive then?”_ she asked, and Murphy confirmed it. She pulled the phone away from her mouth and shouted something at someone else. _“We’re working on securing any other traitors, so your only contact right now is me. Got it? Tell me everything.”_

He filled the Director in on their road trip, on the aimless paths they’d been carving through the continent. She instructed him to head for his home, to keep in contact with updates. For now, at least, Harper was still his mission, and he was to keep her safe.

He contemplated telling her the mission was compromised, that he definitely had feelings for Harper and that they were affecting his decision-making skills.

But, since his feelings were, in fact, affecting his decision-making skills, he opted not to. He was the only person Harper trusted, after all. If he told the Director, he’d be pulled off the case.

The princess in question emerged from the bathroom as he hung up, pink damp hair loose around her shoulders.

“Bandages,” she told him, and he sighed, wiggling out of his shirt.

She started unwinding the dirty ones, and Murphy let her touch wash over him.

“What did she stay?”

He shrugged his good shoulder, watching his hands instead of her. “About what I expected,” he said. “You’re staying with me. We’ll head towards my home for now unless we hear otherwise.”

“Good,” Harper said, voice as soft as her hands. “And my country?”

“They’re working on it,” he told her, even though Abby’s words hadn’t sounded promising. “Once we’re somewhere safe and more permanent, they’ll bring you in on the decisions.”

The rest of the changing of his bandages was spent in silence. Her touch was so soft, so soothing, that it took him longer than it should have to realize that she’d long since finished wrapping his wound and was just stroking his skin.

He turned towards her, to see what the matter was, and found her far closer than he expected.

His eyes were drawn to her lips and his breath caught in his throat as her tongue darted out to wet them, and then he was shooting his gaze back up to hers.

“Your highness,” he whispered, and then she was closing the distance between them, pressing their lips together.

She tasted like sunshine, and he couldn’t help himself from kissing her back, raising his hand to dig his fingers into her hair. Her own hands brushed against his neck as they made their way to his face, cupping his cheeks and holding him tight.

He didn’t want to stop. Not now, not ever.

Which was why he pulled back, just enough to press their foreheads together.

“You’re grieving,” he whispered, even as every bit of him was begging to just kiss her again.

She nodded. “Yes,” she agreed, pressing another kiss to his lips.

Murphy swallowed, pulling back again. “Don’t you have a fiancé or something?” She had to be betrothed to someone. They always were. 

_Why was he fighting this?_

Harper sighed, pulled back enough to look at him.

“I don’t have anything,” she said, her voice breaking a little. Tears shone in her eyes, and Murphy wanted nothing more than to make everything better for her. “I don’t have a family. I don’t have a home. I have _nothing_.”

The statement of everything he’d already known, everything she’d lost, broke his heart and what little resolve he had.

“You have me.” Against his better judgement and the simple rules put in place by the PPP, he punctuated his statement by kissing her again, pouring every pent-up emotion into the action. “You’re not just another job to me, Harper. You have _me_. I’m not going anywhere.”

She pulled back, eyes shining as she searched his face, her thumbs brushing over the skin under his eyes, and then she was kissing him.

Not much changed after their first kiss. They drove. They ate. They slept in cheap motels.

But now their hands found each other’s in the space between their seats. Their meals took longer as their hands wandered. They slept wrapped around each other instead of back to back.

Murphy was going to get in so much shit. He wouldn’t be surprised if he got fired.

But he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He’d known Harper for less than two weeks, but she was already the most important person in his life.

Which probably said something about his life before this mission, but that was neither here nor there.

They spent five days in their bubble, the terrors of Harper’s world and his mission always lingering on the edges, and Murphy should have expected it all to come crashing down around them.

Everything had been fine when he’d left. He’d kissed her goodbye and left her to find them something to watch while he darted down the block to get them dinner.

She’d been fine.

“I got burgers,” he called, stepping back into their motel room. “And milkshakes. Chocolate, your favourite.” There was no answer, no sign that she was anywhere within the room. “Harper?”

The only sign that she’d been there at all was their backpack on the bed and the toothpaste commercial blaring from the TV.

Fuck.

“Harper?” he called again, louder, searching the bathroom on the off chance that maybe she just didn’t hear him.

The panic started to set in and, _fuck_ , this was why they weren’t supposed to get attached. He couldn’t think when he was attached.

He patted down his pockets for the burner phone, but it wasn’t there. He dumped out the contents of the backpack, and it wasn’t there, either. He knew it had made it to the room, because he’d already called the Director.

Where was it?

Where was _she_?

He started for the motel room phone, screwing protocol and secrecy. A princess’s life was on the line. Fuck protocol.

His heart stopped when he saw the note, scrawled out in what he was sure was her writing despite never having seen it.

_“Charlotte’s alive. I have to do this. I’m sorry.”_

He didn’t know what that meant, until the commercials ended and the news returned, a small voice he’d heard too often to forget in his days at the Arkadian palace.

_“Harper,”_ Charlotte pleaded, her face on the screen bruised and bleeding. _“I’m scared. They said they’ll kill me unless you come back. They’ll let me go if you come here instead.”_

And suddenly everything he was fearing was a reality, because he knew exactly what Harper was doing but not where she’d gone, and he’d never been so goddamn terrified in his life.

He picked up the motel phone, dialing the number he’d long since memorized.

Murphy hated waiting. He’d never been good at it under the best circumstances, and he sure as hell wasn’t good at it when someone he loved was on the line.

Because he loved her. It was probably the adrenaline and the fear talking, but he was pretty damn sure he was in love with Princess Harper McIntyre.

Abby had already been aware of the video and had tried to call him to no answer. It was real in the sense that it was actually Princess Charlotte, but fake in that Charlotte’s body had been recovered days before.

Harper was walking into a trap. She was getting herself killed, and she didn’t even have a chance of saving her sister.

If the Director noticed anything off in his pleading, in the desperation he had at getting her back that he’d never shown for another mission, she didn’t mention it. She just told him to wait while they tracked the burner, to wait for her call with a location.

So he was waiting, feeling beyond useless.

He fucking hated both of those things.

He’d already thrown their things back in the bag because he needed something to do with his hands and because he knew they wouldn’t be returning to this motel room.

The call came from Abby, and he barely listened to the name of the building before he was hanging up and sprinting out the door.

She was on a roof, because of course she was. They’d landed a copter, he noticed as he watched from behind a utility box. There were four guards and fucking Pike himself.

He could take them. He had to take them.

He caught Harper’s red eyes and nodded once. He was going to get her out of this.

He motioned for her to duck, and then he was shooting, firing off rounds quicker than they could react. The first two guards went down quickly. A bullet hit Pike, unfortunately not a kill shot, and then they were firing back at him as they dragged their leader back towards the copter.

And then they were leaving, flying away, and he was sprinting across the roof.

“She’s dead,” Harper sobbed as he tugged her against him, scanning her for any injuries. “They killed her. She’s dead.”

He held her, pressing kisses against her hair, whispering nonsense as he held her tight.

They’d have to leave in a minute, because they were anything but safe here. They’d have to get a new car and drive somewhere else, somewhere far away from here.

But for a minute, just a minute, they could sit there.

Because, for a minute, they were alive and relatively safe.

Everything else was absolute shit, but they were alive.

They deserved a minute.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!! And if you did, please vote me through to the next round!
> 
> Comments and kudos help me not go crazy in self-isolation lol


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